First Storm

It was our 2nd day at sea, and everything was going well. We were keeping a slow pace, but steady. I took the night watch and I have no idea what time that was. Without my phone I never know the time and I quickly lost track of the day.

My watch was going well, Sly Dog was at about 7 knots. The boat feels much faster in the dark when you cannot see the horizon. I could feel the sea building, a gentle swell was quickly growing in amplitude and frequency. I was having lots of fun and everyone else was sleeping.

After what felt like a few hours, I began to feel sleepy and I woke Alex for his watch. I slept on the deck of the boat.

Alex says that it was not long until he woke me up.
"We need to reef in."

The swell was continuing to build, and the wind had definitely picked up. You could feel the storm coming with the daylight. Grant came up from the cabin.
"Rocky Seas, arg. It be time for battle."

Grant is crazy.

I pulled the sails in a bit and Grant set up a water collection device because you can never have too much fresh water.

We sat in anticipation for our first blue water storm and Grant was now at the helm.
"Right, the clouds ahead of us dropped. Reef in!"

Grant swung the boat into the wind and started up the engine. The seas were quartering and Dimitri was looking sea sick. The trick to not getting sea sick is not being in the cabin and not lying down. Outside, beaten by the ran whilst being tossed about the deck, you don't have time to feel sick. Dimitri went inside to lay down and it was all over for him.

Once you realize that a boat with a 6ft keel is not easily blown over in the wind, a storm can be fun. Grant had the boat under control so I pulled my was to the bow. You really get tossed around up there, and as long as you don't stop to think about how far away the nearest land (and safety) is, it is quite fun getting thrown around.

I stood on the bow and yelled like a hyena for awhile, then return to the stern to put the sails back up. The wind was still very strong and Grant was shaving. I guess a storm is as good a time as any to have a sharp razor about.

We were relaxing and when the second storm hit, it was a surprise.
"Reef in the Genoa!"

The boat was nearly on it's side and I was tossed into the cabin, down the stairs, while addressing the sail. That was not the first nor last bruise I would receive that day.

Dimitri, you are a good guy and I know you were sick, but you were very much in the way of the Genoa sheet when I needed it. I could not get to the sheet to complete the jibe, and the sail and rope went flapping around the deck like a very large and dangerous whip, smashing things. We are lucky that no one was in the way of that whip because it would have hurt enough to call the coast guard. Instead, the thrashing ropes destroyed the left side of the dodger and ripped the lower half of the main sail to pieces.

I recovered the deadly sheet and attempted to pull the furler line (which makes the sail smaller, which is good in a storm :). For some boating reason it is unwise to use a winch on this line, so you have to pull it using only your arm strength. I pulled as hard as I possibly could and it would not budge. A gust of wind hit the sail and the boat tipped over again == more bruises.

Grant turned into the wind again and I pulled nearly a quarter of the necessary amount of line in and I though my arms would fall off. Since it was so hard to keep the boat pointed into the wind because of the waves, I would pull a foot or two, then cleat the rope, wait for the boat to spin into the wind again, and repeat.

Another gust hit us and sly dog tipped over and dipped a railing into the water. I was standing on a surface that is usually a wall, pulling up on a line that I could not move. My hands were bloody and I truly thought the boat was going to capsize. I have never tried that hard to pull something before in my life, and, almost by magic, I reached the end of the line and the boat began to right itself.

We were in the eye of the storm, it was calm and the skies were beautifully clear above us. All around us in every direction was stormy doom. I sat down, exhausted, looked at my bloody hands and mustered my best Ace Ventura impression.

"Three storms is tooo much"

Posideon must have heard me because the storm dissapated while we were in the eye of it. However, now our mail sail was torn up. Which is a good part of the reason that it took twice as long as expected to arrive in Bermuda.

Sail on.